


If It Ain’t Broke

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [34]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Actor Ben Solo, Awkward Boners, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Take Charge Rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-10-28 08:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20775800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: In which Ben is hired for an erectile dysfunction commercial but finds out thehardway he doesn’t exactly connect with the product.





	If It Ain’t Broke

**Author's Note:**

> This is a ridiculous fic I wrote on Twitter which is exactly that. Ridiculous. 
> 
> Based on the Reylo Fic Prompt:
> 
> _ “Ben auditions for an erectile dysfunction commercial. He loses the part when he suddenly pops a boner after being around Rey, the camerawoman (Or Director?)”_

Ben has never been so mortified by only a waiting room.

For the dozenth time that day he wonders what in the fuck he’s doing here—reminding himself that jobs are hard to come by when you’re just starting out. That he should be _ grateful _.

He wishes he were more so.

He taps his foot restlessly, chewing at his thumbnail and staring at the door where the receptionist had promised someone would come find him when they were ready for him. He is reminded that this will be immortalized forever. Never-fucking-mind what Poe will do when he inevitably sees it—will he forever be labeled as, well, _ that _ guy?

He takes a deep breath. 

_ Jobs are hard to come by, _ he thinks again. 

It doesn’t stop him from jolting in his seat when the door swings open—praying for an elderly man possibly named Earl with a kind face and understanding eyes and almost _ swearing _ when a petite brunette steps out instead. 

Her eyes are bright and her smile is kind and her hair is _ gorgeous _ like every other part of her—and Ben wants to die a little in that moment. 

“Ben?”

He wishes his name was Harold or Kevin or even fucking _ Nancy _—but he nods back grimly. “That’s me.”

“Great! I’m ready for you if you want to come on back.”

_ Come on back_. 

The irony doesn’t escape him. He rises from his chair to follow her, willing himself not to admire the way her skirt hugs her from behind. 

Failing, mostly. 

“So you’re an actor?”

Ben pointedly fixes his gaze on the back of her head—but somehow her hair is just as arousing as her backside. It’s so _ soft _-looking. Does he have a thing for hair now?

“Trying to be,” he mumbles. 

She gives him a smile over her shoulder. “Well, I hope this helps.”

Great. Apparently he has a thing for smiles, too.

She leads them into a little room at the end of the hall that is surprisingly empty. Ben looks around in confusion, and the woman notices. “It’s only a thirty-second bit. I told them I could handle it myself. I’m good with a camera,” she laughs.

Ben isn’t sure if he’s relieved or terrified to be alone in a room with this beautiful woman. Considering what they’re here for. 

“I’m Rey, by the way,” the lady with the nice hair and everything else tells him. 

He points to his chest. “Ben.”

“Yes,” she chuckles. “I know.”

“Right.” He feels his ears heat. “Of course.”

_ Does she have to be so pretty? _

She points to a chair in front of a red screen. “That’s where I want you.”

He thinks to himself that he can imagine a number of places where he wants _ her _ —the thought immediately followed by an incredulous _ what the fuck is wrong with you, Solo? _

He shuffles over to the little chair, trying not to look as nervous as he feels.

“Are you familiar with the product?”

“Yes,” he answers. Immediately shaking his head the second it’s out. “Well, not _ personally. _ I mean—not that that’s anything to be _ ashamed _of or anything—I just—”

He catches her grinning at him, eyes bright with mirth. “I know what you meant.”

He nods, feeling his ears heat. “Yeah.”

She blessedly brushes off his awkwardness, looking down at the clipboard in her hands. “Okay, so we have some stock footage of other men of various backgrounds—just their photos that will flash in sequence—and you’ll be doing the voice over before we feature you at the end with the product.”

“Awesome,” he answers.

It’s decidedly _ not _awesome, if he’s being honest.

“Did they give you the lines to study?”

Ben nods. “Yeah. I have them memorized.”

_ Unfortunately_.

“Perfect!” She beams at him, and he’s distracted by the shape of her mouth. “This should go quickly, then.”

_ God, I hope so, _he thinks.

She taps her chin as she stares at him, her brow furrowing in thought before she finally begins to close the distance between them. 

Ben is definitely _ not _ prepared to have her so close.

“I just need you to...” Her hands are suddenly on his shoulders, turning him to her liking, and Ben stops breathing because she smells _ entirely _ too good. It should be criminal. 

“Oh.” She notices his tension. “Is this okay? I’m just trying to get you in a position I like.” She notices her choice of words—and he doesn’t miss the slight flush to her cheeks. “For the camera, I mean.”

He nods. “Sure. Get me in whatever position you want.”

_ Why did he say that? What is wrong with him? _

He also doesn’t miss the way she bites her lip.

He isn’t usually like this—so aware of another person—but something about Rey puts him right on the edge of _ something _ that leaves him a flustered mess. 

His fingers itch with a need to touch her, which is ridiculous, because he met her approximately ten minutes ago. 

Rey clears her throat, still not meeting his eyes. “There. That’s good, I think.”

She retreats to the safety of behind the camera—toying with it until she’s got it just right and finally giving him her eyes that seem a little nervous now. 

“Do you want to do a rough run-through?”

He recalls the lines she’s going to expect him to say, and the thought of repeating them—in front of _ her_—

He takes a deep breath.

“Sure.”

He sees the little light come on for the camera, sees that she’s waiting for him to speak—and his tongue is glued to his mouth, his face feels like stone, and can he _ really _ say that to her? Even indirectly?

But she’s still waiting, and the camera is still rolling, and he knows he _ has _ to if he wants to get paid, and—

“Here’s the thing—”

He’s sweating a little.

“—52% of men experience erectile dysfunction—”

And that’s it. That’s all he can get out. 

He can’t fucking sit here and say to this beautiful creature that his dick doesn’t work, even if it’s fake.

She pokes her head around the camera. “Something wrong?”

He tries again. He can _ do _ this. He clears his throat. 

“52% of men experience erectile dysfunction—but 0% like talking about. That’s why we built _ Resistance_. For the first time ever, you can get erectile dysfunc—”

And he’s done again. His mouth dry and his tongue thick and does she _ have _ to be so fucking pretty?

She actually looks concerned now. He’s still sweating.

“Ben? Are you okay? Do you need some water?”

He nods fervently. “Yes. Yes, I think I need some water.”

“Of course!” She rushes to the little fridge in the corner, pulling out a bottle and bringing it over. Ben unscrews the cap hastily and chugs down half in a matter of seconds.

“Better?”

_ Not really_, he thinks. But it’ll have to do. 

“I think so,” he says instead.

She’s still frowning. “You look so flushed. Are you feeling okay?” She presses the back of her hand against his forehead. And it feels so nice, and she _ smells _so nice—

He notices she still hasn’t pulled her hand away.

He looks up at her, and she’s just staring at him—and he doesn’t know what is happening, or what it is that’s crackling between them, but he thinks maybe she feels it too. 

He watches her throat bob with a swallow, and her voice is a little thicker now. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

His pulse is racing in his ears. She wants to help? God, there is so much he would love to have her help him with. 

“I’m having a little trouble with the lines,” he admits hoarsely. 

“Which part?”

He grits his teeth. “The part where I tell a beautiful woman that my dick is broken.”

He hears her suck in a breath, and he’s instantly furious with himself. He hadn’t meant to tell her that. He hadn’t meant for _ any _of this to happen this way. 

“I’m sorry,” he corrects immediately. “That was inappropriate.”

“It’s okay,” she answers softly. 

He realizes then that she’s still touching him.

“No, I’m sorry—” He tries to stand. “I didn’t—” He inaccurately measures just how wedged she is between his legs. “I shouldn’t have—” 

Their legs tangle together just as he lifts from the chair, resulting in a blending of startled sounds and a failing of gravity—and Ben finds himself right back in the chair but with a whole other world of problems. 

Because now she’s somehow half-straddling his lap.

He doesn’t know how his hands ended on her waist. Doesn’t know how _ her _ hands ended up pressed against his chest. But she’s so close to him now, and her eyes are wide, and she’s breathing hard, and so is he, and they—

Oh no. 

Oh _ no_.

This cannot be happening.

“Oh my God.” He tries to shift away, but this only makes it worse. “I’m so sorry, I’m _ so _ sorry. I promise I didn’t—I didn’t _ mean _ to—”

“Ben.”

“Just don’t call the cops. It was an accident. I’ll go, and you don’t have to pay me a dime. I promise I didn’t mean to—”

“_Ben.”_

He looks up to find her biting her lip.

“It’s okay,” she tells him. “It was an accident, right?”

He nods dumbly, the front of his jeans too tight now. “Yes. An accident.”

“I’ll just move, and we’ll… forget this ever happened.”

“Right. Yes.”

But she doesn’t move, and neither does he.

He watches her swallow heavily, rolling her lips together as her gaze moves over the lines of his face. “You haven’t moved.”

“I know,” he answers a little hoarsely. “I have to.”

She nods slowly, but she still doesn’t move away from him, and neither does he, and did she just slide her hands over his chest? Is she—is she _ shifting _ a little in his lap?

He clenches his teeth as he feels her legs widen a little. As he looks down to see her skirt hitch a little higher. “Rey.” 

“Mm?”

“What’s happening right now?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t normally—”

“Neither do I.”

She’s looking at his mouth now.

She bites her lip, rocking forward just enough so that Ben nearly chokes on his own tongue. “Is that because of me?”

He doesn’t actually _ mean _ to tighten his grip on her hips, but she’s still sort of _ moving_. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Stop apologizing.” She presses her fingers to his lips. “Answer my question.”

Ben stops breathing.

He swallows thickly, chest heaving under her palm that still rests there and eyes widening Because is she—does she—

“Yes,” he breathes. “It’s because of you.”

She stares back at him for a span of seconds that feels like _ hours, _and then:

“Show me.”

Ben gapes back at her. “S-show you?”

“Yes.” She nods, eyes flicking down to the situation in his lap. “Seems only fair. Since I caused it.”

_ It’s a trap, _ his mind screams.

Surely she can’t mean for him to—

Her finger presses against the button of his jeans. “Show me, Ben.”

This can’t be happening. Ben thinks that there is no way he stumbled into this embarrassing as fuck job, only to have it end with a beautiful woman in his lap asking him to _ show her _ his traitorous hard on.

But she’s still looking at him in that way, still biting her lip, and—

Ben never takes his eyes off hers as he reaches for his zipper.

He’s still half-terrified that at any moment she’ll yell out _ just kidding _—but she seems just as breathless as he feels, when the room fills with the little metallic scrape of his zipper. When the tented front of his boxer briefs come into view.

She seems like she _ wants _ it.

He hisses out a breath when her fingers trace his shape, his hands moving to grip the arms of the chair.

“I probably should ask you to leave,” she murmurs, sliding her thumb and forefinger down the entire clothed length of him. “But it’s been awhile, and you’re... very sweet.”

“You don’t even know me,” he manages, distracted by her palm flattening against him.

“That’s true.” She presses her thumb just under the head of him. “But I’m sort of an _ opportunity _ girl. Sometimes you just have to say: you know, I can take whatever I want. Right?”

“This isn’t happening, right? I’m going to wake up and still be in my bed.”

“It’s not happening.” She shakes her head, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. “Not yet. But it could... if you want it to.”

Ben’s heart stops beating, or maybe it just feels that way.

She leans in close, the warmth of her breath brushing along the shell of his ear. “But the door isn’t locked, Ben. So I would decide quickly.”

He can’t really form a coherent thought outside of _ sayyessayyessayyes _—but she’s so close now, her mouth only _inches_ from his, and she’s still _touching_ him, and—

It takes nothing at all to close the distance.

Her mouth is as soft as it looks—warm and plush against his own, and he doesn’t hesitate to open for her as her tongue swipes inside to move over his. He can feel her rocking against him lightly, and she doesn’t protest when his hands drift to slide over the rounded curve of her skirt.

His eyes flick to the door nervously when she moves to let her lips trail over his jaw, her tongue flicking just beneath, against his pulse point.

“Will someone—?”

“I don’t know,” she hums against his throat. “I suggest you hurry.”

He feels her beginning to inch up her skirt.

He can’t help but smooth his palms over the soft expanse of her thighs—and if he angles his head he can just make out the flash of pink lace between them.

Even from here he can’t miss the damp patch there.

“_Fuck_. Can I—” His tongue feels too thick. “Can I touch you?”

He thinks he can feel her smile against his skin. “If you want me to touch you back… then yes, I suggest you give me some incentive.” 

He might be a little in love with this woman. 

He doesn’t waste anymore of their time, snaking his hand between them to press his fingertips into the wet fabric that covers her slit. He can feel her shuddered breath ghost along his throat, and he presses a little harder to circle the little nub just beneath the lace. 

“Your hands are...,” she sighs, pushing up to nip at his earlobe. “They make me wish we had a little more time.” She pulls softly at the delicate bit of flesh with her teeth, humming contently. “Maybe next time.”

Ben groans as he turns his face to find her mouth, capturing it to let his tongue press inside as he hooks a finger into her underwear to pull them aside. Her slick center coats his fingers as he slides them through her folds, curling them to let them slip inside. 

She moans softly, Ben swallowing the sound as he pushes deeper. She’s warm and wet and _ perfect— _ and he’s thinking now about how she’ll feel wrapped around him. He finds himself wishing he had a _ lot _more time. 

He needs a _ very _long time to do everything he’s thinking about doing to her. 

She rocks her hips forward, trapping his hand between her pelvis and his straining cock that is jutting up against his underwear. “Please tell me you’re clean,” she urges breathily. “Because I’d really like to feel you.”

“_God, _yes. I am. So clean. I promise, I—”

She presses her fingertips against his lips as she grins. “So am I. Hurry, remember?”

He nods fervently, struggling to wrench down his underwear until she reaches to hook her own fingers just beneath the band—tugging until his cock springs free. Her fingers curl around it, giving him a light stroke as he shudders in her hold. She scoots closer until the wet of her cunt slides against his length—releasing him to let her hands cup his jaw, pulling him in for a kiss. 

He can barely think straight as she undulates against him, and when she lifts her hips, reaching to take him in her hand to help guide him to her entrance—Ben’s vision nearly whites out. 

She takes him inside slowly, sliding down every inch of him as she licks into his mouth, and he has to close his eyes to keep from coming—already so close to the edge as she stretches around him. He can feel her thighs trembling over his lap, and she lets out a ragged breath as she takes every inch until she’s flush with his lap. 

There’s a chorus of their mingled breaths as they both struggle with how full she is of him, how well they _ fit _like this—but then he feels the soft brush of her lips against his, her voice low and hoarse when she murmurs:

“Move, Ben.”

Ben doesn’t need any more encouragement. 

He grabs her hips, lifting her with a grunt as her slick channel grips every inch of him. He’s able to lift her just enough to jolt back inside—feeling himself so deep there is simply _ nowhere _left to go. Her hands settle at his shoulders, a gasp tumbling past her lips, and doesn’t waste a second, gripping her tighter to do it all over again. 

His head falls back as his mouth parts—lost to the sensation and the wet slide as he thrusts into her. He feels her lips trail over his Adam’s apple and higher to mouth at his jaw. Her tongue swipes across his pulse point, and he feels her press her knees against the back of the chair to gain enough leverage to lift higher—slamming back down as both of them cry out. 

“Can you touch me?” Her voice is breathless in his ear as she still mindlessly sucks at whatever bit of skin she can reach. “I just need you to, _ ah.” _

He is just able to dip his thumb between her legs, pressing into her swollen clit and circling it heavily as she squirms under his attention.

“_Yes_. Just like that.” She tilts her pelvis, changing the angle of his cock sliding inside and bringing his thumb closer to the little bundle of nerves. “_Faster.” _

His hand aches from this angle, but he refuses to stop touching her. Not when she’s panting in his ear, growing _ tighter _ and _ wetter _ with every swipe of his thumb. He roughly jolts into her—her thighs trembling and her cunt _ fisting _ him and the _ sounds _ she’s making now but he just keeps _ going _and she—

“_Fuck.” _

He withdraws his hand the moment he feels her insides quivering around him, grabbing beneath her thighs and holding her up so that he can thrust up into her with all he has. He can already feel it, that hot pressure that builds and _ builds—_and he closes his eyes as he chases after it. 

He fucks into her as his cock swells and his lungs _ burn _ and he might be _ hurting _ her with the way his hands are so tight against her skin but she’s so _ wet _ and he’s so _ close _ and just a _ little bit more _and he’ll—

The sound he makes when he comes is hardly human—some strangled moan that tears from his throat as he buries deep inside, his cock pulsing in a heavy rush of fluids as he gasps through it. Rey’s lips ghost at his temple, murmuring low words that he can hardly make out but make him shiver all the same. 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, crushed against one another in a cramped chair—but he’s conscious of the way his hands aimlessly wander over her hips and up her back and anywhere else they can reach. 

It’s only when a low hum sounds in her throat that he comes back to reality, her lips pressing into his cheek. “You know… I don’t think I can ethically give you the part now.”

“Yeah.” He snorts. “I’d have to agree.”

“Besides… I don’t think you ah—” She wiggles her hips a bit, and he has to bite back a groan. “—_connect _with the product personally.”

He laughs, but it's a choked sound, considering he’s still buried deep inside her. He leans forward to rest his face in the softness of her blouse, burying his smile between her breasts. “Right.”

“Shame,” she sighs dramatically, combing her fingers through his hair. “I suppose I should take you to lunch as a consolation. Starving actor and all.”

He tilts up his face to catch her smirking down at him. “Oh?”

“It’s the least I can do.”

His grin widens, and he doesn’t tell her that he might trade dozens of jobs for what just happened. 

“What will you tell the company?”

She purses her lips in thought. “Well, I certainly won’t be telling them _ this _part. I’ll think of something.” 

He notices something over her shoulder then, his eyes widening as she turns her head to follow his gaze. She sees the same little blinking light of the camera that he does—chuckling softly under her breath. “Oh yeah.”

“Should we—?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Her lips curl in a mischievous grin. “It might make a nice souvenir, don’t you think?” He gapes back at her as she leans in, her lips brushing against his. “If you play your cards right… I might even let you watch it with me later.”

Ben thinks to himself that he might just follow this woman anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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